


Form

by Aida



Series: 30 Day AU Challenge [30]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Transformation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 08:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aida/pseuds/Aida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo didn't like his animal form, for many reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Form

**Author's Note:**

> THE FINAL PROMPT FOR THE 30 DAY AU CHALLENGE!!! Now I can finally get back to my other fics and... well... perhaps continue some of these because I do like some of them.
> 
> Despite the excitement, I can't help but that, well, this wasn't my BEST. But anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

Dwarrows, Bilbo had mused, seemed more likely to be moles or some matter of burrowing creature. They lived underground, so it should make sense that, when they shifted, their animal forms would be most suited for underground dwelling. Sure, some were, but others were surprisingly not.

Dwalin, for example, took the form of a small, spotted wildcat. Balin, a goat. Thorin and his nephews seemed to follow Dwalin’s path, for their forms were large wildcats with sleek fur (even though it was still a little hard to take Kíli seriously as a panther, though his brother looked very much the heir he was as a lion, and even as a snow leopard, Thorin still looked majestic). 

They all matched their animals well, and Bilbo could easily predict the others’ forms. Ori was rather sweet as a sparrow, travelling on Nori’s back as a fox. Dori seemed very regal as a long-haired housecat. Bifur was a surprisingly affectionate badger, while his brothers were a pot-bellied pig and a rabbit respectively. Oin and Gloin were both rather large, bulky, wrinkly dogs.

Out of all of them, Bilbo seemed more perplexed over Dwalin’s form. The large dwarf showed up at his doorstep in it, and he had cooed silently as it sniffed around, only to squawk once he shifted back to his normal form. He always wondered what Event triggered Dwalin’s choice, but it was none of his business. 

“He seems quite fond of you, my brother.” Balin had told him one night as they sat near the fire. 

Bilbo just shrugged it off. “It’s probably because I’m the weakling.”

“He doesn’t just groom anyone, Mister Baggins.” The older dwarf chided, and Bilbo flushed at the memory of Dwalin sitting at his head one night and setting out on licking his curly hair into more of a mess than it had already become, latching onto his scalp when he tried to move away. “I’ve been curious, though. Have you had your Event yet?”

Now Bilbo felt cold, staring at the fire. An event was what triggered someone’s initial shift into their form. It could be tame (his father told him once that he was merely eating an apple when he first shifted into a small pony), to something more traumatic (his mother almost drowned before she first shifted into a large hawk). Bilbo never liked to talk about his, though.

“Yes.” He finally answered. 

“Then why do you not shift?” Balin asked. “Is it something that hobbits don’t regularly do?”

“No, we don’t.” He said. “We only shift when it is necessary for what we do.”

It was partially true, since hobbits didn’t generally shift unless they needed to get work done. Unlike dwarrows, who didn’t care either way, and shifted whenever they felt like it. But there was another reason why Bilbo didn’t shift. A very important reason. 

“Well, feel free to do so. We don’t judge.” Balin told him, and Bilbo fought the urge to scoff. “I know personally that it helps to stretch the legs and such.”

He decided to just nod and smile at Balin. He knew that Balin meant well, but Bilbo knew that his form wasn’t something that was easily accepted amongst others. 

**xxx**

The next time Dwalin had groomed him, it was after their fiasco with the trolls once they had reached the safety of Rivendell. Bilbo thanked him and kissed his furry forehead. He got Dwalin’s fleeing form in return. 

When he eventually returned to the group, he was back in his normal form and had then promptly dropped a bouquet of mangled wildflowers onto Bilbo’s lap. Bilbo then asked Dwalin if he could teach him how to polish weapons so that he could help take care of his axes, as well as his own sword. 

It was a bizarre method of courting, Bilbo had thought, but it was worth the smile on the dwarf’s face. 

“Will I ever see you shift?” Dwalin asked softly, holding Bilbo in his lap as he tried to help him polish his small sword. 

The shiver of pleasure he felt of Dwalin’s lips brushing his ear was quashed by the question. “One day.”

His arms tightened. “Do you not trust me?”

“Wha-? No!” Bilbo hissed, dropping his sword and turning his head. “No, it has nothing to do with trust! It’s…”

He swallowed, remembering crisp, cold snow stained red with blood. “It’s not a very… pleasant form.” He finally answered. “I… I will show you someday. Just… Only when the time is right.”

“Not pleasant?” Dwalin parroted softly, lifting his head when Bilbo tucked his own under his chin. “I thought hobbits were a peaceful folk?”

Bilbo laughed, but it wasn’t out of humor. “We are also full of surprises, as Gandalf would say.” 

**xxx**

When Bilbo would show his form to Dwalin, he would also be showing it to the rest of the company. He had no choice, really, when they were hanging off a falling tree and their leader, Thorin, was about to be killed by the orcs. 

So of course the company was shocked when a small, angry warg with rich brown fur charged and mauled the orc with his blade at Thorin’s throat. 

At first, they were horrified, and a little confused. How did a warg get on the tree without any of them noticing? Why did it charge down and kill the orc, when such creatures were their allies?

“Bilbo!” Kíli had cried in shock, answering their questions. “It’s Bilbo!”

It took a while for Dwalin to absorb that information. That Bilbo, their burglar, his sweet, kind, yet finicky Bilbo, had a warg as his form. It seemed almost impossible, and he would’ve never believed it if he hadn’t seen it with his very eyes, let alone watch as the warg shook and shifted to further assert this information, revealing a rather frazzled Bilbo in its place as he then moved to continue his assault. 

His mind finally caught up with the fact that _Bilbo was fighting a hoard of orcs alone_ , and he lead the charge to go to his aid. 

Once the orcs were fought and the Eagles came to carry them off, Dwalin looked towards Bilbo. How could someone like Bilbo have _that_ form? How could someone so good have a form that was so evil?

“His Event,” Balin spoke up tiredly, snapping Dwalin out of his thoughts. “Must have been a truly traumatic experience for him to shift into a warg.”

It clicked into place, and Dwalin couldn’t help but feel his heart clench for the hobbit. For no one’s Event should ever have to be that terrifying.

He didn’t have a chance to ask Bilbo about until much later, after Bilbo shared a moment with Thorin and they began their trek down the mountain. After making sure that Fíli and Kíli weren’t crushing their uncle to death in their forms, he managed to track him down. He was sitting on a log some distance from the company, obviously worried about the possible backlash he could face.

“What happened?”

He startled Bilbo, something he didn’t mean to do.

“Oh! Dwalin!” He breathed, forcing a smile. “Sorry. You snuck up on me!”

Dwalin had a feeling he was trying to avoid answering, but he wouldn’t be deterred. “What happened?”

Bilbo visibly swallowed before slouching a little. “It… I was a child.” He explained, shuffling a little to make room for Dwalin, who sat next to him. “Winter came, and, well… It was bad. Really, _really_ bad. There were shortages on food and clean water. People were sick, children were dying. We didn’t think it could get any worse… Then the river froze over…”

He wrung his hands while Dwalin remained silent. “The wolves were first, then the orcs. They came in droves, now that they could easily cross into the Shire.” He continued. “I… I was outside. Something foolish, I know, but my mother had gone to check on our neighbors and hadn’t returned. I was… I was cornered.”

“And in order to defend yourself-.” Dwalin started to fill in, but Bilbo shook his head.

“Others came to help me, those who were healthy enough at least. They… They didn’t stand a chance, and there was so much blood…!” He rushed out, eyes burning. “I… I only wanted it to stop. I wanted to help, because no one else would, and…!”

Dwalin watched as hairs sprouted from Bilbo’s hands and his nails lengthened. Immediately, the hobbit balled his hands up and tucked them away. 

“There was a reason I was alone, before you came.” He muttered. “Yes, I managed to hold them off until the rangers could come but… That didn’t matter. I was still a monster…”

Bilbo was trembling by the end of it, and Dwalin did what he knew he had to do. Without a second thought, he picked Bilbo up and set him in his lap, holding him close to his chest. 

“I’m sorry…!” He whispered, but Dwalin shushed him.

“Don’t apologize. You did good then, and you did good now.” He said firmly. “You, Bilbo Baggins, my burglar, are _not_ a monster.”

**xxx**

Balin knew that Bilbo had secluded himself, possibly out of the thought that the company would ostracize him despite Thorin’s very public display. By every right, they probably should. Wargs were a very rare breed of skin-changer, and the last one that any dwarf had seen was a rather horrible dictator. But Bilbo was different, and he surely knew that, didn’t he? Even if he didn’t, he had seen his brother wander off, and he hoped that he didn’t say anything to make Bilbo feel _worse_.

When Balin did manage to find them, however, he was a little surprised. For he didn’t think Dwalin would be quite like this.

At first, when he had stumbled upon the scene, he had almost called for reinforcement at seeing a warg so close to camp. But he took in the size, the softness of its fur, and immediately relaxed, for he knew that warg. He knew them now, anyway. But no, it wasn’t odd to see a warg curled up in a field of flowers. What was odd was the sight of his brother tucked up under the thing’s head while they dozed.

Two bright feline eyes locked on his, and he snorted when they seemed to glare at him. Dwalin hated being disturbed from a nap, and he was also a rather defensive feline.

“Just don’t laze about too much, brother.” Balin chastised. “Or _you’ll_ become the wide one.”

He let out a snort, and Balin almost cooed at how his brother seemed to snuggle closer to the Bilbo. It seemed sweet, but it was his brother, after all. Even if his Event revolved around the fact that his father was forcing them to grow up too fast and refused to give them anymore attention than what was strictly necessary, and how he shifted to seem more appealing to others and garner their affections. Dwalin still had dignity, though, even though it must’ve taken a holiday not too long ago.

“I’ll leave you to your rest.” Balin told him, heading back to camp. 

As he walked, he swore he could hear Dwalin purr.

**Author's Note:**

> THAT'S IT.
> 
> NO MORE.
> 
> -Dies.-
> 
> TUMBLR: omgaidawtf.tumblr.com


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